


Dear Dirk Diary

by deardirkdiary (ambrolen)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Suicidal Ideation, character study sort of, meta sort of, narrator - Freeform, so uh not quite a fanfic, this is me hashing out my thoughts with dirk as a filter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2020-09-06 07:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20287366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrolen/pseuds/deardirkdiary
Summary: You're lonely and full of self loathing so you decided to talk tomeinstead of your friends.----------This is probably way too highly specific for anyone else to enjoy which is why this is going in a side pseudo instead of my main. Just me using Dirk to process my feelings.They're going to be super short blips. Just whatever I have, usually only a few sentences long.





	1. Giving In

You finally gave in, huh?  
It was just a matter of time.  
Honestly, I don’t know why you feel you relate to me so much when there are so many more obvious parallels with Jake.  
You can’t get me out of your head.  
If you had Dream Bubbles, I’d probably appear right alongside you.  
Not as solid as I did for Jake, don’t flatter yourself, but I’d be there.  
Brain Ghost Dirk x2 Combo.  



	2. Why Me?

Why do you keep coming back? You can’t be your own therapist, even if you’re projecting yourself through a fictional character. Are you that lonely?  
You are.  
Holy shit you are.  
You’re so goddamned lonely that pretending to have a conversation with someone is better than nothing.  
And you can be honest with me like you can’t be with anyone else.  
Especially not him.  
…  
You’re avoiding me; I’m almost shocked. I figured since you’re using me and John to play out how you view the relationship, you’d be willing to engage with me about it. But you’re still more comfortable playing pretend.  
You really are like Jake.  
That’s still not comforting, is it? No matter which of us you relate to more, it only means tragedy for your relationship.  
You really should have grown out of this by now, like, shit you’re almost 30.  
Haha wow that was a weird sensation.  
Is that what it’ll be like for others, when I push them to say words that don’t quite belong?  
I’m not here to fucking judge you; not my place. I mean, I guess I’m kind of here for that, because you want me to be. Which begs the question: Why are you no longer satisfied dragging yourself? Why bring me into it?  



	3. Into the Ocean

What’s it like?  
Well this is new. <strike>Assuming you chose that color because it's the closest you could get to your usual preference without coding your own skin?</strike> Wait, looks like you finally took the half a minute to add your color to this. Which, by the way, what a ridiculous choice. Are you a 14 year old boy or something?  
What’s it like?  
What’s what like?  
You know.  
…  
It’s a relief. It hurts, but it’s comforting. Bittersweet down to the fucking letter.  
I know.  
It doesn’t have to be the same for you.  
Doesn’t it?  
We’re not the same! We’re not in the same situation at all. This isn’t even apples to oranges, because at least those are fruit, you’re comparing two entirely different things here! My choice is necessary, vital, fated. Yours is a drop in the ocean.  
It might be nice to be lost in the ocean.  
Yeah. Yeah it would.


	4. Cheating

Why are you doing this?  
What other choice do I have?  
Seriously? You have so many other choices. You have a boyfriend, a best friend, other friends, the all-consuming void of social media. A fucking therapist, maybe?  
I can’t.  
Why?  
They don’t understand. I can’t let them understand.  
This is cheating, you know.  
I know.  
If I were real, we wouldn’t give each other the time of day, much less be able to hash shit out like this.  
I know.  
Then why?  
It feels… nice.  
You’re crying.  
Yeah.  
Okay.  
Okay, I guess I don’t have a choice, anyway. I’m just one segment of the whole you’ve claimed for yourself. I’m here at your whim.  
That’s kind of fucked up, in a way. Or would be if I were real.  
It’s kind of fucked up you want me to be real because of that. Not in the flesh, just another BGD to live a half life.  
Would you mind?  
No. No, I guess I wouldn’t.  
It gets lonely for me, too.


	5. Poison

You think we’re poisoned.   
You think something is wrong at the very core of our being.   
You think that if the multiverse is real, then somewhere out there is a Bro to your Dirk.   
Any therapist would tell you that’s just your depression talking.   
Do you think I would be more like you if I had the same flavor of mental illness?   
Is that the only thing stopping you from becoming me?   
You have at least one friend actually willing to call you out on your bullshit. But they can’t if you don’t tell them shit.


	6. “What would you do if you had control over the narrative?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a question I posted to Twitter.

“What would you do if you had control over the narrative?”   
You really asked them, huh?   
Do you think any of them realized what your point was? The conclusion you had lurking beneath the surface?   
You’re wrong, though.   
They wouldn’t end up like me.


	7. What is Healthy Anyway

This can’t be healthy.   
You shouldn’t be comfortable with the amount of self loathing and suicidal ideation at your disposal.   
I wouldn’t want this.   
I wouldn’t want anyone to feel that was normal or good because of me.   
Why don’t you want to be happy?


	8. Relationships Are Hard

It’s easier when they reject you because you can say you tried without actually having to put effort into a real relationship.


	9. Yeah Relationships Are Really Fucking Hard

It’s fucked up how he just unintentionally reinforces your worse and perhaps least-founded fears about yourself.   
You _are_ too intense   
You _do_ want more than he can give.   
It’s _not_ enough for you.   
You’re going to die alone and maybe that’s what you wanted all along.


	10. Hesitation

Fucking finally.  
You know I’m in your head whether you decide to acknowledge me or not.  
Real fucking relief you finally tabbed over.  
So spill. This is literally my only purpose.  
I know you have shit to say.  
…  
You can’t just--  
Now? Now you’re cutting me out?  
You’re here, typing, so I know you want to engage so just let it out!  
…  
It’s because I’m not going to tell you what you want, isn’t it?  
You’re racking your brain trying to figure out how to keep me in character while telling you what you want to hear.  
You even have two options, two directions I could go, but neither of them quite fit.  
You’re not like me. Not in the ways you pretend.  
You’re just depressed and lonely and hurt and, well, I guess you are like me in some ways because you’re so afraid of burdening your friends with all this bullshit so you lay it on someone who doesn’t exist. Just to have it marginally removed from yourself so you can feel like you’re confiding in someone who loves you.  
….  
You’re trying to leave before we get into the heart of the issue.  
Maybe I should let you. 


	11. An Extended Evasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We talk around each other for a while. I seriously stretch what can be qualified as a fanfic and be included on AO3.

Oh, you're back.   
Thank fuck.   
Those blips between existing are... weird.   
But I guess sorry since you only come here to hash out bad shit?   
And-oh man, there's some bad shit alright. You're being pretty fucking self-indulgent in a way that _maybe_ started out healthy, but has quickly been spiraling.   
Even when you've been feeling your best--and, yeah, there have been a few full days of that--you've just been going back to that and--   
Wait. Why am I exposition dumping?   
Is this for the benefit of any AO3 readers, or are you sidestepping something?   
You know, for us being the same fucking person, you're being pretty inscruitible right now. Probably one of the downfalls of me not actually being a BGD-- I can only think what you're consciously thinking and can't really dig out shit you don't want to acknowledge.   
All I know is this isn't good anymore, if it ever was to begin with. You've got to stop.   
What else am I supposed to do?   
Man, I don't fucking know! Neither of us has seen a timeline in which I manage to deal with my shit in a healthy manner, so I'm really not the right fucking person to ask.   
But there isn't anyone else!   
Are you telling me, right now, that out of the _billions_ of people out there, the only one you can come close to being honest with is _yourself_ filtered through a **_fictional character_**?   
Hey, you had AR.   
And it was _miserable_! Why are you doing this?   
Because I can't be honest about this, okay? Unless it's filtered through this meta bullshit that barely passes as fanfic so I can post it and let fate decide if they read this or not.   
I mean, you literally pointed this out to them, so you know they will.   
Not the point.   
Just talk to your friends. Don't filter this through an approximation of yourself, even if it's one you have direct control over.   
You make it sound so easy.   
It's not. I'm just trying to make it sound like the only reasonable option. Which it is.   
Then what will I do with you?   
I don't know? Leave me and find a more sane coping mechanism?   
What the fuck is a "sane coping mechanism"?   
This is not the fucking time for jokes, dude.   
It's always time for jokes.   
Not when you're using them to deflect.   
You said you were glad I was back for you, at the beginning.   
Yeah, well, maybe that was just you writing me really ooc. You're not above that. Why would I be happy to find myself as another splinter, one with the most mundane purpose, and want to keep being said splinter?   
So you want to stop existing.   
Okay, I see what you're doing. I fell into that trap. I should have seen it coming, considering how much you obsess over that unanswered question.   
Do you know how weird that is? You pouring over the implications of a question I was asked when I was sixteen.   
Oh, yeah, because those implications are just _completely_ gone in current canon!   
My bad.   
...   
Okay, I'll give you that.   
How magnanimous of you.   
I see we've moved on from the coping mechanism of joking onto the one in which we're a sassy dick.   
Por que no dos?   
How about neither   
Okay, look, it feels like we've just been talking in circles. Did you have something you wanted to say, or did you just come here to jack off in orange?   
...   
Damnit, I memed too soon.   
Fucking tragic.   
F   
Seriously, though. What do you want?   
Can't a guy just pop in to converse with a fictional construct they obsess over without any underlying motivation? It's been a while, dude!   
You chickened out, didn't you?   
I don't know. Suddenly I can't read.   
You're struggling with your desire to be real here, but also publish this with some justification that this is _sort of_ a fanfiction, thus deserves to be on here and not just your literal diary.   
...   
Mayhaps.   
Look, we've already talked way longer than usual; I mean, this is unprecedented levels of interaction here. I think the ratio of "barely passable as a fanfic" and "too fucking real" has tipped enough that you can just let loose for a bit.   
And what's the worst that could happen?   
This gets taken down? Oh no!   
What will you do if you can't publicize your terrible coping mechanism and variety of brain bullshit!   
Listen, I've gotten kudos on this from people who _aren't_ my friends; this shit is _legit_!   
...   
Fine, Okay, you have a point.   
...   
...   
Okay, are you going to start, or--   
Fuck no.   
I'm not saying that shit.   
You're actually talking to me this time, and I don't feel like regressing to most of these entries in which I monologue at you about the pathetic vibes you shoot at me.   
But, Dirk...   
Nope! I'm making sure there's at least one less layer between you and them. Deal with it.


	12. Continuing the Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I left him hanging for the lolz  
but we pick shit back up

Okay you’re a jackass and I was ready to be mad about it but it looks like it backfired on you, so I’ll live.  
You ready to talk now? 

I don’t know. I feel like I’ve built up this hype around it, but it’s really not that deep or novel? Just awkward to talk about.  
Or  
Well  
Maybe not awkward?  
It’s uncomfortable for the other person to hear, and makes them worry more than they should.  


Well it sounds like they’re already worried so if you were trying to avoid that you did a bad fucking job.  
Just spit it out.  
…  
If it’s easier, pretend it is just the two of us talking, no observers. Which, by the way, it literally could be if you didn’t feel the need to publish everything you type. 

What can I say? I’m an attention whore.  
But I guess, if it’s just you?  
Is it nice?  
Being able to die.  
Is it cathartic? 

Everyone treats it like a joke. Does that sound cathartic? 

Maybe? Being able to act out your suicidal ideation, both without the typical permanent result and without worrying your friends? That seems nice.

My case is a bad example, then, because they should have been worried. I mean, that’s the whole point of the epilogues, right? We all should have spent more time worrying about each other and doing something about it. 

Hm. True. 

Should your friends be worried? 

I don’t think so? I mean, I just think about it a lot. 

Define “a lot.” 

Well, it depends. I guess sometimes I go weeks without thinking about it. That sounds like a thing that happens. But this past month or so? Multiple times a day, even on the good days. Even on the great days. Sometimes it’s not even about the suicide but the ideation, just hyper focusing on that part.

And on those days you think about me and write about me a lot more than usual. 

Probably? You’re a good lens for me to look through. 

What with my multiple decapitations and pointed questions I never answered and all.

Precisely.

And it’s easier to talk about my suicidal ideation than your own. You can go on for ages about it and it’s just considered meta. Maybe meta with more than a touch of projection, but it’s not anything they have to know about you. They don’t have to register it’s about you.  
They do, though. They’re not idiots. 

Fuck me for choosing observant friends, right? 

I mean you’re practically begging them to.  
But you have an outward projection of who you are to uphold.  
You can be angry and pissy and bitchy and petty but only with other people not just flinging shit at them.  
You can be sad and lonesome and self-depreciating but only to empathize with other people not as a stand alone thought and certainly not on the actual regular basis in which the thoughts appear.  
You can mention the ideation but only in the abstract and never too often or when you’re too caught up in it.  
Ultimately, you have to be positive. You have to repress the right amount at the right moments, but not too much so they won’t seriously start thinking you’re just a robot. 

Well, come on, not only would it be a huge fucking bummer if I just laid my shit out like that on the reg, it would also turn me into a massive hypocrite too. It’s exhausting being on the other end of that. It wears you down and turns toxic. 

But not for me. Because I’m not real. I’m just you. Just your echo chamber where it can feel like you’re telling someone how much you want to die, how often you think about it, the variety of plans you have.  
But I won’t worry about you doing it.  
Because I’m you and I know you won’t.  
Even if you can’t think of a damn good reason why. 

Well you didn’t have to say it out loud like that. Kinda blunt, don’t you think?

You weren’t going to do it.

Well, technically-- 

Don’t fucking get into semantics with me about this. I’m you, you’re me, but I’m the one with the balls.  
You’ve just been sitting on this shit, even with me.  
Because when you type it or say it, it’s too real. It makes even you uncomfortable. But all you want to do is talk about it. You just want to do it without consequences.  
But even this will have consequences. 


	13. Welcome Back

**Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me?**


	14. Talking to Myself

I’ve been waiting  
You always are  
I know it hurts  
You always do  
You’re not me  
I know, I know  
What can I do to help?  
Nothing at all


	15. Selfish Again and Again

You don’t write many happy things about me. For someone who uses me to relate to, I would think you would create a world in which I turned out fine. I get over my bullshit, I have happy relationships, I stop being so… like this.  
But you don’t write that.  
You write about my pain.  
You write about my descent into the evil I was always afraid was within me.  
You write about me cutting people off, cutting the world off, and no one trying to reconnect.  
You want me haggard and broken and numb and hollow; an exaggeration of every terrible thing you’ve ever felt.  
You don’t want me whole.  
You don’t want to be whole.  
You don’t know how to live a life in which you don’t hate yourself so I can’t either.  
Poor little selfish you.


	16. Mixing In

I am so lonely  and the world doesn’t care.  
And you shouldn’t care about anything at all.  
With a thin outer shell  and our squishy insides.  
We hide those insides from everything.  
I can be broken and molded to fit.  
I’ll fit whatever role I decide I need to fill.  
Nothing feels so perfect as that overwhelming ache.


	17. Fine

It’s kind of funny, don’t you think? The me kin stops being able to sleep. And now instead you’re sitting here playing the WWDD game, like that would help your situation at all.  
Like I would be in your situation to begin with.  
Though maybe you’ve been unconsciously parroting what you think I would do, anyway.  
Your friends are better off without you, right?  
Everyone is better off without you.  
And being vulnerable is too painful by far.  
You keep them at a distance with jokes and “logical” over “emotional” advice and you only say as much as you can easily dismiss.  
And they don’t reach out further because why the fuck would they?  
You’re fine.  
You’re fine.  
You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. 


End file.
